


Magic Tricks

by queerofcups



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Back Together, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 14:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17123102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: Every magician knows there is no such thing as magic. They are masters of making things possible out of a situation that seems impossible. The key to getting what you want in life is to know that the only reason why something is, is because it was made possible. It can only be if it is possible for it to be. Make it possible and let it be.-A relationship in reverse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Blonde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Blonde/gifts).



> Many many thanks to my wonderful beta and all the other participants in the PFF Holiday Exchange.

Dan unlocks the door to his flat, holding his phone between his teeth. His other hand is full, barely holding on to the stack of folders he’s brought home from work. He pushes the door open, ignoring the obnoxious meowing echoing from around his ankles.

“Shush,” he says to the fluffy black cat that blinks up at him with big yellow-y green eye.

“You’re going to wake the neighbors,” Dan sighs, closing the door behind him.

That was mostly a joke. He hadn’t heard a peep from his neighbors in three years now, after an unfortunate incident where they’d made a noise complaint about him and he’d ran into one of them the next day. But Yeezy absolutely doesn’t need to know that.

He sighs and drops his bag and jacket in the appropriate spot, toeing off his shoes and turning toward the kitchen. It was too early for Yeezy’s dinner but she’s still meowing up a storm and glaring up at him with her one good eye. Whatever. He’s got a date tonight, he doesn’t have time to worry about Yeezy getting grumpy because she ate too fast and then, two hours later, she’s hungry again.

“Bitch,” he says fondly, grabbing and shaking the plastic bag of flash dried chicken at her a few times before pouring a few crumbly bits in his hand for her to hop up on the counter and eat.

His phone buzzes in the meantime and he pulls it out to look while Yeezy crunches.

He taps to open the email and starts to read.

“Oh,” Dan says, rereading the short message. “Fuck, _ow_ , Yeez!”

He snatches his hand away and looks at his finger, which radiates pain. There’s no blood, but it smarts. Yeezy doesn’t even look particularly guilty for nipping him. Instead, she’s looking at the bag of treats, clearly judging if she can get it open. This is what Dan gets for getting a one-eyed cat from the shelter that came with a laughed warning that she was “a clever one”.

So now, he’s got a sore finger, a self-satisfied cat and an email that feels like someone walking over his grave.

It’s short, for what it is, a brief invitation and if he wasn’t staring at it, he would have laughed at the idea of getting an invite.

It’s a big deal, he supposes, to be invited to Youtube Rewind 10 when he wasn’t even filming when Youtube Rewind started. Maybe that’s why his stomach is flipping and there’s a distinct fluttery feeling in his chest. It's not quite the beginning of a panic attack, but it's not as far off as he’d been a minute ago.

He puts the phone down and turns to his fridge.

They don’t need an answer now and he doesn’t have an answer to give. He’s happy here, in his reasonable flat, with his problematic cat with a problematic name, his normal TV, his normal job, his normal, normal life.

There is a part of him that thinks about the way all of these things are his, and only his, but he turns that thought away, too.

“What a mess,” he murmurs to himself, opening his fridge to pull out a pitcher of water. “What a fucking mess.”

+  
  
_“Is that it, love?” his mum asks, looking between him and the car. Her little hatchback is full up, just enough room for both of them to fit. His dad’s car would have made more sense, it's bigger, there’s more room. But his dad’s car would come with his dad and Dan knew he wouldn’t be able to take a single word from his dad on top of...this._

 _It's a sunny day outside, the kind of balmy that feels like a blessing even though it's really a warning about how warm the summer is going to be. The sky is bright and blue and the clouds sumptuous in their fluff and it’d be the perfect day if Dan didn’t feel like he’d been cracked open and all his insides poured out.  
He stares at the flat, what used to be _their _flat, the first of many that they thought they would share._

_“Dan?” she asks again, softly. His mum’s not the gentle type, really. She’s got wicked mum humour, the kind that’d probably be a bit pervy and bawdy if weren’t softened by how much of a mum she is. She’s been especially mum-like the last few weeks, with both of them._

_Dan appreciates it, but it grates on him a little. He doesn’t want her equanimity as much as he wishes she would just be on his side. He wishes anyone were on his side at all._

_The loneliness hasn’t hit him yet. He’s had all the other feelings, the grief, the anger, the disbelief. But Phil’s been in there with him through it all. Dan’s never been certain if he was fighting for them or just prolonging the inevitable, but it doesn’t matter one way or another. Because now Dan’s standing outside a flat he used to live in, with him mum gently telling him it's time to go, and now all he’s got is the stark, sudden feeling that he hasn’t been quite this alone in a few years._

_“Yeah, mum,” he says, because he can hear her intake of breath and he’s afraid what she’ll sound like if she has to ask him one more time. He turns away from the flat and opens the door to her car, folding himself down and in. She’s made it into traffic when he starts crying, quiet, helpless sniffles and she just sighs and clicks and doesn’t look away from the road as she pats his leg._

_“These things happen, sweetheart,” she says and Dan doesn’t know how to say that he’d been certain, even in the worst of things, that it would never happen to them._

+

Wes scares Dan because of all the hookups who’ve become friends, or friends who’ve been hookups once or twice, he’s probably the one Dan likes the most. He’s way outside of Dan’s normal type, tiny and ash blonde, straight from the bottle, and absolutely flaming. He tells every story with his hands and he once winked and told Dan that he intentionally lets his wrists go a little softer when straight boys are watching. Dan thinks he’s brilliant and doesn’t mind that he feels a little dull next to Wes’s shine and sparkle because Wes is always down to meet him where he is.

Like now, when they’ve been talking about the Try Guys, of all things. Wes is just as online as Dan is, though he spends time getting in Twitter feuds about the ethics of programming far more than he watches the dumb videos that Dan sends him.

He must have watched some of them, though, because he’s keeping up with Dan while he picks at the label round the neck of his bottle of beer and talks absently about his pet conspiracy theory of Buzzfeed keeping Eugene in the closet.

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” Wes says, his eyes crinkling when he smiles. “They’re super liberal, why would they do that?”

“Well, I don’t _know_ ,” Dan grumbles, “I’m just saying, we didn’t officially know anything for a long time and then suddenly he’s like, _out_.”

“Some people are just private,” Wes argues and makes a interested noise when Dan reflexively rolls his eyes. “Ooh, someone’s problematic.”

“Whatever,” Dan says roughly, a little unsettled by his reaction, an honestly involuntary thing that he hadn’t even realized he felt, and how easily Wes had caught it. “They’re not even real youtubers.”

“They aren’t?” Wes asks, taking a sip of his own drink.

“No,” Dan scoffs. “Have you watched the videos I sent you? They’re producers, not youtubers. You can see them trying to figure out what will make them the most money.”

“Strong opinions,” Wes says, watching him.

Dan doesn’t like it when people can read him. It makes him want to look away, or, even better, run away. Anything to make sure that people only see him from certain angles, just in case they recognize him a little too well. He’s not hard to find online, or in real life, judging from the email in his inbox, marked unread. But it slips out sometimes, how much he cares about certain things, in a way insiders would know best of all.

“Whatever,” Dan says, changing the subject “Tell me about your day?”

“Well, dear,” Wes says, and Dan gets a thrill that only intensifies when Wes reaches out to touch his hand lightly. He’s not private, Dan tells himself, not sure if he’s talking about himself or Wes. Some people can be private, and that’s fine, but he’s _not_.

+  
_  
Dan lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. There’s a water stain that looks faintly like the London Eye, spokes and all, and it feels a little like it's staring back at him. He’s cold and it's easier to make up a little fiction of just how the London Eye got on the ceiling of his bedroom, than think about the way he’s laying on the edge of his bed, one foot hanging off, so he doesn’t accidentally brush Phil’s skin._

_They’d done it again. He’s lost count of how many times now they’ve agreed that the thing between them is over, that they’re just friends now, only for someone to stare a little too long, or smile a little too wide, and they end up here again. Maybe it's because they never actually say that things are over. They just keep promising each other space to breathe and time to clear their heads. But Dan doesn’t think he can clear his head while he’s still in this flat. It's the kind of certainty that breaks his heart. But he’s just so tired. It feels like waking up from a nightmare over and over again, feeling just as shitty this time as the last._

_“I always thought we’d last forever,” Dan says to the London Eye water stain._

_Phil doesn’t respond. Dan doesn’t know if he’s asleep, or just can’t respond. It's probably better that way._

_Dam doesn’t bother brushing away the tears that are slipping from the corner of his eyes down to his ears._

_Phil shifts, loudly, next to him, and Dan can just feel the brush of Phil’s leg against his own. Dan tucks his legs close together, pulling away._  
  
+

“Sir!”  
Dan looks up from his phone. It's a full ten minutes before classes start and his room is empty other than the nerdos that quietly file in to use his space as a quiet place to read before they throw themselves into the hellhole of sixth form at a mildly posh college.

He’d never tell them, but the nerdos are his favorite. Mostly because they’re quiet. Usually anyway.

“Yes, Brandon?” He asks, not bothering to remind Brandon that he doesn’t need to call Dan sir. It would fall on deaf ears anyway, Brandon is waving a phone in his face excitedly and talking a mile a minute.

“It’s so exciting, sir! They’re gathering everyone, are you going to go?”

Dan grimaces, “Go to what, Brandon?” As if he doesn’t know.

The rest of the students are looking up from their books and laptops, watching the exchange.

“Rewind 10!” Brandon crows, gesticulating so much his hair is flopping around a little. “They’re saying they’re going to gather all of our favorite youtubers past and present. You were definitely big enough for this, right?”

Dan always knew he’d regret the time he’d let it slip that he used to do stuff in youtube. It had taken exactly ten seconds for his early morning crew to find his videos and get their heads around how popular he used to be.

“I,” he pauses. He could say he hadn’t gotten an invite and sweep the whole thing under the rug.

“AmazingPhil already said he’s going,” one of Brandon’s friends says from the back of the room. “Surely they’ll call you, too, Mr. Dan.”

Ugh.

“Yeah,” Dan says, to Brandon and the room in general. “I got an invite. I haven’t decided yet. Who’ll watch you lot while I’m gone?”

The few who weren’t paying attention are now, and rib him appropriately for pretending that’s a reason to say no.

It’s true that Dan’s rather well liked at his job and it wouldn’t be a pain to get a temp for the two or three days he’d need to be out.

He rolls his eyes and says, “Go back to your books. Brandon, I’ll let you know personally if I decide to go.”

“Yes!” Brandon says, punching the air. Dan doesn’t have the heart to remind him that that’s not the same thing as saying yes.

He makes it all the way til his break during lunch before pulling his phone out and opening the email. It’s a quick thing, to send that yes, he’s going and he’ll need both travel and lodging in the countryside they’re filming in. It doesn’t feel anything like going back to a world he’s not thought about for years now. It doesn’t feel anything like submitting himself to seeing people he hasn’t thought about in years. Or the person he’s thought about, but figured he’d never speak to again.

He goes home that night, feeds Yeezy and himself, grades some papers and snacks on bullshit while he putters around the house, cleaning up. It's a normal night, he doesn’t have plans or any intentions of making plans, and that would normally be fine except now he’s regretting not having something to distract him from his brain reminding him every few minutes that he’s going to see Phil again.

“It’s not a big deal,” he tells Yeezy. “It’s been so long. It’s doesn’t matter. We’ll just say hi and do our job and leave. People see their exes all the time. It's just like, a reunion.”

Yeezy blinks at him the wanders off, jumping up into her cat tree.

Dan grunts and calls after her. “I should have gotten a dog.”

He finds himself with nothing else to clean or grade too early in the evening to go to bed, so he runs a bath.

The bathroom is one of Dan’s favourite rooms of his house. It’s painted a warm, beigey-pink and all the carpets are grey and fluffy and he’s got both a side table and a plank to go over the bath so he can continue internetting in the bath relatively anxiety free.

Dan hums to himself as he pulls out one of his fancier bath bombs and nudges the side table into place and tugs his shirt off as he goes to the bedroom to grab his laptop. He knows what he’s going to do, there’s no point persecuting himself for it. Might as well have a nice bath while he does it.

Done gathering things, he stands and watches the tub fill with hot water and does his best not to feel anything at all. His therapist wouldn’t be pleased. Every time they’ve talked about what happened with him and Phil she insists that he not hold back, even though it feels better, less frustrating, than still feeling so much after so many years.

He sighs and turns the water off, carefully climbing in and staring into the swirls of glittery color, letting the water slosh around him.

He’d chosen this apartment, which was a little outside of his price range, even with the augmentation of his savings from his Youtuber days, because the tub fit him.

It wasn’t the most financially savvy choice he’d ever made, but he’d felt worlds better then, fresh out of his parents house and uni, in his first teaching job and feeling like he’d actually, miraculously gotten out.

He’d pulled up an app that first night to find someone to fuck and lasted exactly five minutes before he dropped his phone and cried himself to sleep, alone in an apartment that was only his.

Dan shoved those thoughts away and tugged the side table with his computer closer. Youtube comes up easily and he just pops over to his subscriptions.

There are other things there. The breakup hadn’t taken his love for youtube. Even if he’d had to create a new account and, for a long time, clicked every video carefully, trying to avoid any creator that was too similar to Phil’s stuff.

When he’d started watching Phil again, it had been a conscious choice, made out of curiosity and no bitterness at all.

He hadn’t been surprised to see how Phil’s fame had skyrocketed. He’d followed their managers plan to a letter, sanitizing his work and leaving viewers little breadcrumbs to his personality. Like his older videos weren’t just a few clicks away. Like there wasn’t anyone in the world who knew--had known the real him, who might be on the outside looking in now.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey guys!” Phil says, waving at the camera and bouncing on the bed a little. “So, as promised, a sequel to my ebay mystery box video!”

He lifts up the box, shaking it a little. It's heavier than the first one, but he’s already done the cursory check to make sure there isn’t anything too gross or adult in it and taped it back over. 

He’s been filming a couple days in a row, stocking up a backlog for the days he’s going to be gone filming Youtube Rewind. He usually doesn’t bother, in the years past, people have been understanding about him being busy and not posting for the week. But he’s been so absent this year, with the book and the tour. He’s thinking about doing some vlogging and chucking it on lessamazingphil. He’s not really interested in vlogging, he doesn’t think he’s interesting enough to pull it off, but he can’t argue with the way it boosts numbers. Or he can’t argue with management telling him it’ll boost his numbers. 

He’s personally not worried about his viewership numbers, is perfectly happy with the way they seem to hover and haven’t really grown in the last few months. But he’s not the only one who makes decisions about that kind of stuff. 

He finishes the ebay video, saves everything and turns off all his equipment.

He’s got pizza coming and an editing all nighter ahead of him. Phil sighs and stands stretching out his back and heading toward his actual bedroom. He doesn’t mind filming back to back like this, but it does get a little draining after a while, trying to keep his energy so high. 

He crawls into bed, excited for a short nap before his food comes. He closes his eyes and has nearly drifted off when his phone buzzes with an incoming message. 

It’s from PJ, it just says _They invited Chris. Cool, huh?_

Phil puts his phone down and doesn’t bother responding. They’d been talking about Rewind all day yesterday, speculating on just how Youtube was planning to make this one a big deal. Apparently, they’d been working their asses off to find the big Youtubers from years past. He’d been on the phone with Hank Green briefly the other day and he’d confirmed that a lot of the people who’d been on Youtube when Vlogbrothers was really picking up, who’d transformed that into other jobs, had gotten invites.  
Of course, no one was asking him the obvious question. Well. 

Phil picks his phone back up to turn it on silent and then closes his eyes again. 

No one who knew the truth was asking him about Dan, they knew better. But it seemed like more and more of his viewers were every day. Some of them asked about Chris and PJ and if they were going to recreate any particular moments but. Most of them that bothered to ask were asking about Dan. 

He should have been used to it, maybe. There was always a thread of his fanbase that hadn’t let Dan go and maybe never would. But it’s been growing since the Youtube Rewind was announced and it's swiftly approaching a place where it’ll be awkward if he doesn’t respond. 

Except that he doesn’t know what he’d respond with. It’s safe to assume that Dan’s gotten an invitation. But there’s no reason to think that he’d accept. 

The last time Phil had spoken to Dan, he’d made it clear that he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Phil or with Youtube. But that had been years ago. People change. 

Phil tries to imagine Dan now, and finds that he can’t. He’s just got the image of Dan as he last saw him, thin and drawn and carrying sadness on him like a second skin. Phil hopes, whether he sees Dan this weekend or never again in life, that he doesn’t still look like that. Whatever guilt Phil still carries around with him aches at the thought of Dan still looking and feeling that way to this day. 

He sighs and flips onto his back, staring at the ceiling. His stomach squirms at the thought of seeing Dan again and he doesn’t know if it's anxiety or excitement. No point to either really, with there being next to no chance of him coming. 

But even the suggestion, the slimmest chance has Phil remembering. 

They’d ended things on such terrible terms, after trying so hard to keep going after the video. Phil had got to keep everything, his career, his secrets. And Dan gave it all up in exchange for privacy. 

Phil stares at the ceiling, trying to remember the shape of the water stain on the ceiling of the last flat they’d shared, and thinking about what on earth he’d say to Dan, if he knew how to find him now. 

An apology, to start with. 

Phil doesn’t regret staying on Youtube, and he doesn’t regret keeping his life private. He’s not even really sorry he made the video, just sorry it got out. 

He sighs and closes his eyes again, trying to sleep.

+  
_  
“We could just stop,” Dan says. Phil looks over at him, but Dan’s looking away, head tilted down so his fringe falls into his face._

_They’re in a coffee shop and the person that had come all the way out from Youtube’s London office to see them had just left._

_She’d been nice._

_She’d known about them and about the video and she’d been honest when she told them that things would die down if they just let it pass._

_Phil hadn’t even realized how tense his shoulders were until this nice woman in her nice pants suit came all the way out from an office Phil had only sort of known existed smiled at them and gave them permission to just_ not say anything _._

_That had been their plan. That had been the plan Phil came up with, and talked at Dan until he agreed._

_There were too many things at stake--the advertisers that were starting to send them messages, both their follower counts were climbing everywhere._

_It didn’t matter that Phil’s stomach was in knots every time someone sent him a tweet or DM asking if he and Dan were together. It didn’t matter that the last three fights they’d had were about whether or not to start new twitters, to delete all the asks and photobooths and just...start fresh._

_Phil wanted a fresh start. Dan wanted...Phil didn’t know what Dan wanted. But he knew what Dan didn’t want. He didn’t want to carry another secret. He didn’t want to lie about them. That’s how he saw it. Lying._

_It was ridiculous, and immature, but Phil couldn’t say that._

_“What?” Phil asked._

_“Youtube.” Dan says, crossing his arms. “We could just stop doing this bullshit, just get regular jobs and live our lives.”_

_Dan slept till afternoon most days and some days he just walked off without his phone and came back hours later and didn’t even apologize, or acknowledge that Phil might have been worried.  
Dan got snippy with his viewers when they tried to ask him about the video. Dan dropped out of school rather than consider changing majors. Dan had mucked up every real job he’d ever had. _

_All of it was burning on the edge of Phil’s tongue at the thought of Dan taking away the one good thing they still had. The one thing that was going to make their lives easy._

_He stopped looking at Dan. He looked at his coffee and said, carefully, “I don’t want to stop.”_

_Dan didn’t say anything back._  
  
+

There are people all over the place and enough people know him, or know of him, well enough that he finds himself smiling and waving while tamping down on the rising anxiety crawling up his stomach into his throat. Youtube’s particular brand of politicking means they’ve invited as many people as possible, to sidestep the drama of someone not being invited. 

“Hi Phil!” Some girl says, clearly slowing down to talk. Phil doesn’t know if he’s supposed to know who she is, but he doesn’t, so he just waves and keeps a speedy pace toward the little bungalow that’s been assigned to him. He’s hoping that when he gets there, there’ll be someone who knows what’s going on. Rewind shoots are usually an easy days work, mostly standing around and letting people put everything in place for him to make a few facial expressions and take maybe five steps. Apparently there are lines this time, which probably means a script. 

They’re out in a small town a hour or so outside of London that’s got plenty of rolling hills and enough airbnbs and regular non-airBnB's to house all of the British portion of Rewind. Thankfully, there is in fact someone who looks like they’re in the know when he gets to his little suite. The PA gives him a script and a schedule of both filming and when group meals are. Phil’s starting to feel more like he’s at camp than filming.

He offers the PA a grateful smile and rolls his luggage into the room, sighing gratefully when he gets to sit down. PJ (and probably Chris) are waiting for him somewhere out in the pandemonium, but he’s happy to let them wait if it means a few minutes of quiet and solitude. 

Phil drops all his stuff on the floor of the small living area and opens up the script. Someone’s been a dear and highlighted all of the parts that are relevant to him. They’ve mostly got him strategically lounging in the background of shots, pretending to talk to people until his portion. There’s a joke about the book, another about his diss track. It’s quick, not much to fret about. 

Phil glances at the rest of the page, checking to see what happens before he starts talking and his heart feels like it’s skipped several beats. 

Phil touches the name.

He’s going to be mad, Phil thinks. His lines are short, a shitty cheap joke that manages to reference Hello Internet and the fact that he’d basically disappeared from Youtube in one swoop. 

But he’s here. Dan’s here. And he’s going to be in the same room, in the same _scene_ as Phil.

Phil’s phone rings and he answers it on autopilot. 

“So,” PJ starts, sounding brightly casual in that way that means that something is very on. “I was checking in downstairs and nearly ran over Dan.”

“Dan,” Phil repeats, looking up from the script and out the window. He’s on the fourth floor, high enough that he can see people milling about but they can’t see him. He thinks, idly, that he would have tweeted a little bit more about going to the reunion if he’d known. 

“Yes. Dan. Howell? Is not on fire? Your former...business partner. He’s stopped straightening his hair.”

“I know,” Phil murmurs then snaps out of his revere. “That he’s here. I know he’s here. We’ve got a scene together.”

“Well,” PJ says, sounding less calm and more surprised now. “That’s good, I think. Just wanted to prepare you.”

Phil nods and laughs. “Thanks, Peej. I’m ok.”

PJ makes an odd noise that Phil supposes is agreement and hangs up, leaving Phil to stare out of the window again. 

Dan is _here_ and what does Phil have to show for the years they’ve been apart? 

A new haircut, a career in limbo and a closet door that’s just starting to be pushed open. Phil puts the script down and goes to use the bathroom. It’ll all be there when he comes back out. 

There’s a group dinner tonight, and only forty of them here. It’s not like he’s going to miss Dan, even if he tried.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Youtube rep has almost no accent, in that way people from London do. Dan’s paying attention to that, trying to figure out if she might be from somewhere else, so he doesn’t have to hear what she’s actually saying._

_She came all the way here from London to spew bullshit at them about how they’re more_ marketable _if they just lie about their relationship._

_“Videos come and go,” she’d said earlier. “It came out by mistake, there are ways of handling any copies that got made. You boys don’t have to worry about that. Besides, nothing wrong with a little controversy.”_

_She’d given Dan a little wink at that and then frowned when he hadn’t responded._

_“You’ve got big things in your future,” she saying now, “Both of you.”_

_Phil’s nodding along with every word she’s saying, because Phil’s a good boy, polite and agreeable, ready to say yes to anything an authority figure asks of him._

_“It was a pleasure to meet you two,” She smiles at them as if she means it and Dan’s decided he hates her. She shakes both of their hands and keeps smiling that fake smile and Dan watches her until she walks out of the cafe._

_He stares into his cup of coffee and forces himself not to look at Phil. He knows what he’s going to find there and he doesn’t want to talk about what it’ll be like if they just try it, just for a little while._

_He can see Phil look at him from the side of his eye and so he goes first, saying, “We could just stop.”_

_There are years of distances and therapy before Dan’s able to recognize that this is the moment that their relationship ended. There are months that come after where they break apart and do their best to come back together and it never ever sticks. There’s a long time before Dan stares at a ceiling and realizes that he’d been wrong about them being together forever._

_But when Phil says that he doesn’t want to stop, easy as anything, like he hasn’t just broken Dan’s heart, Dan knows. He knows they won’t ever be the same.  
_

+

Evening falls across the posh little town that Dan’s found himself in and he finds himself standing outside of the restaurant that Youtube had herded them all to.

It’s a cocktail thing, heavy hors d'oeuvres and free drinks and a late call time tomorrow. It’s like Youtube _wants_ drama.  
Dan just wants to go home.

He’s not sure if it's worse when people recognize him or when they don’t.

A few people he doesn’t know pass by him to get into the restaurant and at least one of them looks at him a little too long, like she’s trying to figure out who he is, but can’t quite place him.

That one is actually the worst, having people stare at him as if he needs to just turn a certain way for them to remember why they should care who about him. That, and the black pit in the bottom of his stomach that he feels when he imagines Phil giving him that look.

It’s dumb. He feels dumb. Phil hasn’t seen him in years. Dan shouldn’t expect Phil to recognize him.

Dan shouldn’t expect anything at all.

He takes a few deep breaths to steel himself and makes a mental note to send an email to his therapist requesting an extra session.

And then he walks in.

+  
_  
“It’s fine,” Dan snaps, staring at the tumblr ask he’d just answered. He’d thought the customer service blog would make him feel better, but he just feels tired. Tired and judged, now that Phil’s suggested it's not the best way to go about things._

_“Dan,” Phil says, and sighs, “Maybe we should talk to someone.”_

_Dan’s laugh sounds bitter to his own ears. “Like who? A couple’s therapist? Like they’d take us seriously, a pair of teenage poofs putting shit on the internet that isn’t porn.”_

_“No,” Phil says quickly. If it were anyone else Dan would think that he’s snapping at Dan. But Phil doesn’t snap. Phil just takes it and smiles and doesn’t give a fuck about anything at all._

_“Someone at Youtube. Dan, we aren’t... I don’t know what to do. We can’t fix this by ourselves.”_

_Dan sits up straight, looks at Phil, leaning against the breakfast bar._

_“Or,” Dan says, because he feels sick with worry all the time and he just wants to confirm what he already knows, “We could just tell them. Fuck it, there are plenty of gay people on Youtube now. Who cares?”_

_The colour drains out of Phil’s face, like Dan knew it would._

_“Nevermind,” Dan says. Standing up and walking to the bedroom. “I’ll be your fucking secret, Phil. Call Youtube, set up the meeting or whatever.”_

_Whatever Phil says in response is lost to Dan slamming the door behind him._  
  
+

  
The last year that Dan was active on Youtube, a lot of his life was just blankness. He didn’t feel anything in particular, just this awful white void of nothing, occasionally splashed with rage or paranoia or unfettered bleakness.

It colors the way he thinks of Youtube now. Where everyone sees open space and creativity and the beginning of careers, Dan sees exploitation and privilege and a world far removed from his classroom, or his flat, or his neighbors. He doesn’t think of Youtube, or anything to do with it, as the real world.

When he steps into the restaurant, it's hard to shake the feeling that he’s walked into some other realm. The place is lit in warm, dim lights and people are laughing and taking photos together. Everyone is holding a flute of champagne or a tiny plate with finger food. Dan had thrown on a nice button down and a tight pair of jeans but he still feels underdressed.

There’s no one here for him to gravitate toward, or even anyone safe enough to stand by for a few minutes and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Wow, talk about a ghost.”

Dan turns to see, of all people, Zoe Sugg. Of course, as soon as he walks into the party he runs into fucking Zoella.

“Uhm,” Dan says, offering up a weak smile. “Hi, Zoe.”

They hadn’t known each other, beyond being aware that they were both successful at Youtube. Dan was on his way out just as her star was starting to skyrocket. So there’s no reason for him to feel like he needs to make conversation with each other.

“You look like you’re shitting bricks, mate,” she says, a wry little smile crossing her face. Dan had forgotten that about her, the way the delicate, curated Zoella that he sometimes came across in his Youtube adventures was a performance that she readily shrugged off.

“...more than,” Dan says. “I haven’t been to one of these things in a long time.”

She lets off a low whistle and grabs a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, handing it to him.

“Let me know if you need something a bit stronger,” she says, smile turning more honest.

“Uhm, we don’t know each other,” Dan says, because he’s too flummoxed to be more smooth.

She shrugs a shoulder and glances over her shoulder to were Alfie is standing, pretending not to watch them.

“No,” she says, “We don’t. But I might want you in some photos later, and abject terror isn’t really part of my branding.”

Dan laughs, but he can tell from her face she’s completely serious.

“He’s over near the back,” Zoe says and gives him a wink. “I’ll see you later, danisnotonfire.”

“Wait,” Dan calls after her, “Why do you want a photo with me.”

“Oh!” Zoe says, offering him a rueful smile. “You know how the business is. You’re a trending topic.”

“I’m _what_?”

Zoe rolls her eyes and comes close again, pulling out her phone. She holds it up so he can see.

It's the page for #phanreunion and there are...a lot of tweets. Jesus.

“Thanks,” Dan says faintly.  
“Later!” Zoe says, and Dan doesn’t doubt at all that he will, in fact, see her later.

Dan still owns the danisnotonfire twitter, even though it's been completely dormant since he moved out. And he’s got his own actual twitter, @yeezy_daddy, that’s carefully picture free and unattached from anything that might be identifying. He doesn’t really want either of them interacting with this hashtag, so he opens twitter in a web browser, making sure he logs out before he looks at anything.

“Ugh,” he says.

There are some clear pictures of Phil and fans next to some blurry pictures of the back of what is definitely his head. He puts the phone back in his pocket and takes a sip of his champagne and that’s when he sees Phil.

Dan, now, is medicated and has a therapist and has a whole arsenal of coping tools for when he feels the blankness coming back and a whole other set for when his feelings start feeling like too much.

He’s still finds himself placing the flute on the nearest flat surface, turning around and walking out.

He’d been prepared for anger, for stress, every negative feeling in the world, he’d been ready for.

He hadn’t been prepared for the unbidden smile, or the bloom of fondness that exploded in his chest at the sight of Phil’s face.

He’d assumed that some version of his feelings were still there for Phil. He hadn’t prepared for the thumping of his heart and the way he’d immediately thought, _oh, there’s my best friend_.

Hatred was easy to deal with. He hadn’t thought he’d find love where he was expecting hurt.

Dan walks through the streets of the quiet town back to his room. He has an interview before his first call time, and he wants to be sharp. Zoella can find him later, if she still wants that photo. He’d thought he was ready but he really, really isn’t.  


The first year after Dan had moved out of their flat, Dan felt like he was going through withdrawal. He never said it out loud, but it felt like Phil was all over him, in his veins, and he’d been drawn to everything that felt even a little like that.

He’d lost count of how many men he’d fucked and called it making up for lost time. He didn’t think about how many of them he’d moved too fast with, playing house after a few dates, how many he’d scared away with the intensity of his feelings.

He’s grateful, in a way, that none of them took him up on his offer of undying fidelity. He wasn’t ready, he’d just been looking for something that would fill the Phil-shaped hole in his life.

Everything related to Phil had hurt, in one way or the other, and somehow, along the way, he’d forgotten the good parts.

And now, the hurt was gone, mostly, and he was in a room, alone, and all he could remember were the good parts. And that hurt too.

He’s not in denial about the ways he hadn’t handled their breakup well. He doesn’t think he’s not carrying around more than half of the fault. But he’s never wanted to reach out and pull Phil into a hug and just...apologize, until now.  
Dan sits on his bed and stares at his phone. The hashtag is still going. Someone had managed to sneak a photo of him and Zoe speaking at the party. It's low quality, obviously from someone’s phone, and he does look terrified. But everyone is tweeting about how good he looks, how much taller and more adult he looks than he did when he was barely twenty.

Phil hasn’t interacted with any of it. Dan doesn’t know if that’s unusual or not. He’d just been in Phil’s twitter and he’s almost impressed with the way Phil’s managing to cherry pick tweets to respond to, deftly avoiding anything that mentions Dan.

Dan puts his phone down and shakes his head. He’ll deal with all of it tomorrow. He’s tired and shaken up and he just wants to shower and sleep. It’ll all be there tomorrow.

+  
  
“We can’t break up,” Dan says, trying to catch his breath. Phil was laying on his chest, and their skin was sticking together with drying sweat. Phil had pulled out of him but Dan’s still got his legs spread. He knows he’s playing dirty, trying to talk to Phil about anything after sex.

_But sex feels like the only time that they’re not fighting right now. Dan tries not to think too hard about what that might mean._

_“What?” Phil mumbles. “Who said anything about breaking up?”_

_“No one,” Dan says, thinking about the ways they’ve been fighting nearly every day since the video got out the second time. There’s no solution, and they can’t come to a compromise._

_“We’re gonna be together forever,” Phil yawns and Dan can feel him falling asleep._  
  
+

Dan should have known the whole reunion angle was going to come with interviews. He had some sense of who he was to Youtube, one of the few that seemed like they were rising on the wave of Youtube legitimacy, just to disappear. It didn’t help that his channel was still there, and so were all of Phil’s videos he was in.

He’d disappeared, from Phil’s life, and from Youtube in general and that made him a mystery that needed to be unraveled, instead of just another would-be Youtube star that couldn’t hack it.

At least, that’s the angle all these interviewers keep trying to take. They all seem disappointed when all he can say is he’s a teacher living in a little suburb of London with his cat. Dan feels bad, and then he feels defensive, because teaching is awesome, he’s shaping young minds and other gooey shite like that.

But the producers and the actual interviewers and even the camera men seem to want him to say that he started a porn blog or stole a million dollars and moved somewhere exotic of whatever. He just went on to have a regular life, the kind that no one wanted to plaster across a website three days a week.

“Okay,” the interviewer says after they have to take a break because Dan’s agitation is showing on his face. “Why don’t we start here, what was your favorite video to film?”

The real answer is Phil is Not On Fire, but he schools his face and says, “Hello Internet. It was the beginning of things, and it's still really important to me.”

He still cringes at every second of Hello Internet, but it was the beginning of something important, he doesn’t bother lying to himself about that.  
She nods and asks him some more softball questions: if he keeps in touch with any of his friends from Youtube, if he ever thought that his silly videos then would get him to this place. Dan pretends not to be annoyed at how self-congratulatory that last question is.

And she must recognize that he’s relaxed some because then she ask him why he left.

Dan would love to say that he doesn’t know. That’s what he’d told Phil, all those years ago, that he didn’t know what this feeling was, he just knew that he needed space and time and to feel, for a few months, like the world wasn’t whispering behind his back.

And maybe it had been true, nearly a decade ago, maybe he really hadn’t known. He hadn’t known how to articulate that he didn’t want to hide parts of himself from the audience, and he didn’t want to sign up for a life of doing that and he didn’t know how to handle all these big, adult decisions when he didn’t even know what to call himself other than in love with Phil.

But he knows now. And he knows that it's written all over his face, if you look from the right angle. He knows who would look.

So instead of answering the camera, he looks past it, at the producer he’s been trying to ignore for this whole interview and says, “I can’t-- I’d need to talk to Phil before I can answer that.”

She looks surprised, at first, then agrees, “Right, of course. Here, we’ll be here all weekend, just come back to us when you’re ready?”

She’s warmer than she’d been with him all day and Dan knows it's because she smells a story, maybe an exclusive.

Dan nods and thanks her and stands so the assistants can take his mic off.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil’s life is…  
Well.

He thinks of himself as busy, and maybe a little guarded. He’s had mostly the same friends since uni, most of the people he knows from Youtube are friendly coworkers at best.

So he’s not surprised that he spends most of the first evening of Rewind filming and most of the next day alone.

His interviews are short and utilitarian. He answers questions about finishing up the tour and writing a book and looking back on his career. Before, he might have been freaked out, but he feels like he’s spent the last two years of his life justifying why anyone would want to shell out money to read about his life, or watch him pretend to be himself on stage.

So he’s in and out quickly, and finds himself with a lot of free time to watch the way Youtube has taken over this sleepy little town. Most of the locals are old enough that they’re familiar with Youtube but not quite sure who any of these people are or why they’re famous. The younger people are worked up into a bit of a tizzy over just how many selfies they need to take.

And Phil is mostly in his room, getting lots of room service, because he just wants to eat and drink without having paste on a smile for every well meaning stranger.

He ventures out as far as the cafe on the bottom floor of the bed and breakfast he’s staying in, and even there he runs into people who want a photo, or just to say hi and how much they love his work. He smiles and says thank you and genuinely means it and tries to keep his exhaustion from showing too much.

He must not be doing too good of a job because when Dan comes up out of nowhere, the first thing he says is, “Have you slept, like, this year?”

Phil flinches and jerks around to face him.

He’s seen the photos, the blurry creepshots in the hashtag and the official school photos that his followers have managed to dig up. It's creepy, maybe, to figure out where Dan works and find his teachers’ photo, and it's something Phil’s going to have to figure out how to gently chastise them about, but he’d still looked.

Dan looks good, he looks so good and so much like himself that Phil’s heart feels like a cracked egg, in pieces and leaking everywhere.

He’d thought there’d be more gravitas, maybe music playing, someone moving in slow motion.

But there’s just Dan, his hands deep in his pockets, waiting for Phil to respond.

“Hi Phil!” Someone says from across the street. Phil turns and waves before he even registers it's a fan and not someone he knows.

“Wow,” Dan says, “You’ve gotten good at that.”

Phil turns back to Dan and lets the smile drop off his face. “Good at what?”

“Your show face,” Dan says. “Hi. It’s good to see you, I think. Can we talk?”

Phil looks at Dan’s face, trying to figure out what he’s walking into when he cracks another, hopefully more real, smile and says, “Sure. Here?”

“Christ,” Dan says, wrinkling his nose, “The internet might actually break. No, c’mon. I’m across the street.”

“I’m upstairs,” Phil offers and doesn’t even blush. If it were anyone else, there’d be implications, but this is Dan.

Dan, who pauses, and visibly parses through the implications, but still shrugs and says, “Lead the way.”

+  
  
_“Maybe it's not so bad,” Dan says, looking at the frozen frames of Phil, talking._

_Phil, whose heart has been in his throat since he’d realized that the video, which should have been locked, was getting comments again, says, “What?”_

_Dan shrugs and shifts on the bed until their folded knees are touching each other._

_“I’ve been thinking about when we should come out. Like if we even need to, or if people already know and we can just--be us, we could just leave it, and answer questions when they come.”_

_He’s not really talking to Phil, he’s just musing. And he doesn’t even notice Phil’s shoulders getting higher and higher._

_“Not everyone wants to come out,” Phil says, quiet and hurt._

_And Dan, because he’s Dan and because he’s on a roll, says, “Sure, but we’re not those people, we don’t want to lie. And it's like, our duty, right? As celebrities. To be role models or whatever.”_

_Later, when Phil’s forgotten the details of all the arguments and the false starts and the awful, withering hope that this is just a bump that they’ll move past, he remembers his own silence, and the way Dan had just talked into and through it._

+

They walk up to Phil’s room in silence. It’s a strange thing to have been so in love and in sync with someone for so long, have no contact at all for years, and then be back in their presence. Phil wants to know everything about who Dan is now. He wants to turn around and pull him into a hug and ask about how his job and his life and where he lives now and what his hobbies are now.

The breakup and all the hurt that had felt so alive and real and close to his skin before feel like they’ve dissipated. All he’s left with is knowing that he doesn’t know this Dan and he really wants to.

But Dan came to him and asked if they could talk in private and Phil doesn’t think it was for casual conversation.

So he looks around to make sure no one is watching and he leads them both up to his room. When they get there he sits on one of the couches and smiles at Dan and does his best to look open and interested.

“Erm,” Dan says, and Phil’s eyes flick across his face and down to his throat. He doesn’t mean to stare. He just can’t help taking stock of all the ways Dan’s grown, he’s gotten a little taller but he’s also filled out. He looks like a real adult, his hair left wavey and a little long and still wrapped in black. He looks good, and now Phil has to work to pretend he doesn’t notice.

“What’s up?” Phil asks, snapping his eyes back up to look at Dan’s face.

“This is so fucking weird,” Dan says and shakes his head. “Sorry. I wanted to talk to you for a reason but. Fuck, Phil.”

Phil nods. “It's. It is. Hi.”

He can feel himself smiling and he knows he probably looks like an idiot but he can’t stop. He feels a little better that Dan’s not in a much better state.

“Hi, Phil. Can I just--,” Dan stands up. “Can I have a hug?”

“Oh,” Phil says.

It’s the wrong thing to say, Dan’s whole posture takes on a hunted, embarrassed stance, so Phil has to hop up and move quickly, fitting their bodies together.

It’s awkward, at first. There are a lot of memories between them, and a few inches of growth and a few new pounds here and there. Phil hadn’t realized he was expecting them to fit together like they once did until he realized that they didn’t.

“Oh good,” Dan says, shifting a little and swapping their arms so he’s got his wrapped around Phil’s waist, “You’re still terrible at hugging.”

“Fuck off,” Phil laughs and leans forward a little more, hugging Dan more tightly.

Dan doesn’t say anything. Phil curses mentally and starts to pull away, preparing to apologize, but Dan doesn’t let him go.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says, so quietly that Phil knows he wouldn’t have heard him if they weren’t hugging.

“Dan,” he starts, “Dan, don’t. We were both--”

“No,” Dan interrupts. “No. I’m not sorry that I left, and I’m not sorry about my life now but. I said some really shit things to you, Phil and I’m sorry.”

Phil nods and presses his chin into Dan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, too.”

They hug, silently, for a moment more, before Dan lets him go. Phil pretends not to notice the way Dan’s eyes are a little red. Or the way his own throat has gone thick in that way it does before he cries.

“Ok,” Dan says, clearing his throat and sniffing. “Ok, we can, just.”

He flops back down on the couch and Phil follows.

“My interviewer wanted to know why I left,” Dan says, “And I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to tell the truth, about the video or if--I told them I needed some time. I have to go back tomorrow.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Phil asks, watching Dan’s face again.

Dan shrugs. “I’ve learned a little bit more about the benefits of discretion over the years, with the whole teaching thing. When it’s appropriate. I’m--I’m out, everyone in my life knows, even my job. But--”

“I’m not,” Phil offers and pushes away the defensiveness that has his shoulders creeping up to his ears. “Not yet.”

This was the sticking point between them, the insurmountable difference that tore them apart.

“Oh,” Dan says, then nods. “Okay, I won’t say anything then.”

Phil chews on his bottom lip. The truth is that there is a slow roll out in place, that he’s talked with his manager and Martyn and there are fans who know the truth even if they don’t know that they know. But all of that is more than he’s ready to tell Dan, if Dan needs to know at all. And Phil’s not as attached to it. There have been days where he wondered what would happen if he just...said it, and let the pieces fall where they may.

“When’s your next interview?” Phil asks. “Tomorrow? Can I think about it?”

Dan nods, “Yeah, of course. It's in the morning, ten or something like that. We could meet before that.”

Phil sits back, “Yeah. We can do that. But--would you want to hang out? Tonight? I know we film tomorrow night and I’m staying here til that next morning so there’s not a ton of time but, we could?”

Dan opens and closes his mouth a few times before nodding and finally saying, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that Phil. Here, can I see your phone?”

Phil hands it over and watches Dan fiddle with it. When he hands it back, Phil’s got a text from an unassigned number. It’s just a smiley face.

The last time he’d tried to call Dan, the phone rang and rang and no one, not even a voicemail, ever picked up. He hadn’t tried again. Knowing that Dan has a new number knocks on some hollow part of him and leaves him wondering at getting back something he hadn’t even known he’d lost.

“Text me,” Dan says, standing up, “I’ll just be in my room practicing my shitty lines.”

Phil stands up too, sliding his phone into his pocket. “Are you practicing the hand motions, too? My name is--” He raises his hands and Dan shrieks.

“Phil Lester, no!” Dan says, pointing a finger at him. “You’re not allowed. Don’t make me break up with you again!”

Dan’s hand snaps to his mouth as soon as he says it, but Phil laughs, both shocked and delighted.

“It’s fine,” he says, gesturing for Dan to keep heading towards the door, “Dan, it's fine, I’ll see you later.”

Dan’s gone a splotchy peach everywhere but his red spot and Phil can tell he’s kicking himself, but it's fine. He has a whole night to make sure Dan knows that he’s not upset.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

 _The video is out and it's been deleted but people have made copies and Phil just_ keeps _deleting them and he keeps apologizing and Dan just wants him to_ stop talking _._

_Dan hadn’t been--he wasn’t in the closet before this. Hell, he’d talked to their subscribers about it. He didn’t like lying to people about who he was. Phil swore it wasn’t lying if they were just being private, And they both wanted some privacy. And Dan wants Phil to be happy._

_So Dan stops talking about boys online and he stops talking about anyone at all in his videos and it's fine. It’s all fine._  
  
+  
  
Zoe finds him as he’s leaving Phil’s suite. She glances at the door behind him but doesn’t say anything, just asks for a selfie, and Dan stands graciously as she takes a couple different ones, then has her team take a few more for good measure.

And then she shoos them all away and leans against the door that Dan assumes leaders to her own suite.

“Did you need something else?” Dan asks.

“I like Phil,” she says.

“You don’t know Phil,” Dan counters and she shrugs.

“I don’t. But I like him. And our teams talk. And I talk to my team, unlike him. Did you know he’s queer?”

Dan doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, but clearly his face does because she laughs at him.

“You’ve got to work on that,” she says, “If you do whatever you two are doing, you know you’ll be back in this world, right?”

Dan crosses his arms, “Why do you care?”

Zoe shrugs. “Phil’s fans are my fans sometimes. And we all know how they can be.”

Dan only has a vague idea of how they can be, but he doesn’t think Zoe’s the type that you show weakness or ignorance around. She kind of reminds him of a shark, the way she’s smooth and seamless and utterly deadly.

“Just be sure about what you’re doing, Dan. Because people are already asking questions.” she says and then walks off to meet her team at the end of the hall.

Dan watches, waiting for her to disappear around the corner before he pulls out his phone.

_is Zoella a mob boss???_

The response is immediate.

_Hi :) she’d be a really good boss. Ive only talked to her a few times but she’s always like, planning. Is she talking to you_

Dan sighs and shakes his head and puts his phone back in his pocket. There aren’t any decisions to make. They’re just hanging out tonight. That’s it.

Dan’s sitting in the courtyard with his script, trying to figure out how to make his lines sounds like something an actual human would say, when a girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen comes up to him.

She’s just a little younger than his kids but she’s still in that range of ages that makes Dan deeply awkward because he wants to just talk to them like adults but recognizes that he maybe shouldn’t.

Which makes things more awkward when she says, “Hi Dan. Are you going to be a Youtuber again? Your videos, like, absolutely saved my life. Can I have a selfie?”

Dan blinks. He’s trying desperately to remember the last video he’d posted to his channel and if any of it had life-saving qualities.

“Um, hi,” he starts. “...no. I’m not planning on coming back to Youtube, though, thank you, that’s very nice of you to say. And um, no. To the selfie. Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Charlotte,” Charlotte says, looking put out now. “So you’re just here for what? Rewind and that’s it. Everyone’s here to be on Youtube.”

Dan’s been chatting around a bit and he’s pretty certain that nearly everyone who’d been on Youtube and had left were pretty firm in their decisions to leave, but he was also not prepared to discuss burnout and exploitation with a fifteen year old.

“I’m not,” Dan says, shrugging. “Sorry.”

“Ugh, you don’t deserve Phil,” Charlotte says and walks away.

Dan watches her and wonders if this is what Zoe meant by knowing how the fans are. And then, belatedly, he’d love to know if there was anyone who hadn’t assumed he and Phil were together.

What was the point of them breaking up, if everyone still decided they were together?

He texts as much to Phil, who doesn’t respond for a few minutes. That’s fine. He’s probably off somewhere being famous.

“Hey,” Phil says behind him. Dan jumps a little and turns.

“Hi,” Dan says, looking around. “How’d you find me?”

“The hashtag,” Phil sighs. “Apparently you were rude to one of my viewers.”

Dan makes a face, “I didn’t take a selfie with her. Because she was a stranger. Do your fans take a lot of selfies with strangers?”

Phil laughs, “They try. Come here? Do you want to just grab dinner?”

Dan rolls his eyes but stands, gathering up his things and shoving them into his messenger bag. It's not quite night time, but it's been a few hours since he’s seen Phil and the shock of seeing him is still there. Phil’s standing, fiddling with his phone, and then he’s taking a photo of Dan, without asking. Which is objectively rude, but Dan’s just curious about what he’s going to do with it.

When he asks, Phil’s still messing with his phone and just murmurs, “Narrative control. Do you want me to tag you?”

“God, no,” Dan says.

Phil still laughs with his tongue between his teeth. Seeing him do it sparks fondness in Dan’s chest, strong and warm.

“They’re going to find it, if they haven’t already,” Phil says, putting his phone away. “Is it already private?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Phil. I’m twenty something who teaches year 12. Of course my instagram is private.”

“Oh,” Phil says and starts walking down the street. “There’s a place a few blocks away I figured we could eat at. Year 12?”

Dan follows dutifully. “Yes, Year 12. Old enough to keep it in their pants, young enough that they don’t know I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. What’s this about narrative control?”

Phil shrugs, “I just said I was excited to be filming with you again.”

“That’s going to cancel out people thinking I’m a dick?” Dan asks.

Phil nods, “Mostly, yeah. It matters that they know we’re not hiding anything, and that we’re talking.”

Dan humphs, “Why do they care anyway. As far as they know, I’m just some asshole you filmed with years ago. No one’s out here hassling Chris or demanding PJ take a selfie.”

Phil stops walking and turns to look at Dan. Dan looks back, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

“Well,” Phil starts. “They are, first of all. Chris, PJ and I got ambushed at that party. And. Dan. The fans--viewers. They know. They don’t know that they know but. It’s not hard to put the pieces together.”

He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. The quiff is a really good look for him, and Dan knows that it took him a long time to decide to go for it. It was a good decision and he should probably tell Phil that he looks good.

“You don’t have to do much more than watch our old videos,” Phil goes on. “We weren’t very...discrete.”

Dan feels his face warm. Now that he’s with Phil and he’s realized how much of the hurt has faded, there’s a lot of affection and there’s a lot of other feelings. They hadn’t been discrete and Dan, in his younger years, hadn’t made a secret of his attraction to Phil, or his possessiveness over him.

Dan licks his lips and nods. “Ok. So they care. And you want them to know that we’re not fighting. So they don’t harass me.”

Phil nods and starts walking again. “Exactly, and we’re here.”

Phil reaches out to tug him through the door of the restaurant and Dan pretends that he doesn’t feel a little spark at the contact.  
  


The place they walk into is clearly expensive. Dan feels underdressed immediately, and a touch awkward for other reasons. There are different people here, families and small groups of three or four friends, but it's clearly intended to be a place for romantic dinner.

The hostess gives them both the bland, polite smile of someone who doesn't recognize either of them, though, and Dan relaxes a touch.  
He hasn’t had to think about his own anonymity for years now, but he can see Phil scanning the crowd, probably judging whether or not he needs to paste on a neutrally thrilled-to-see-you smile.

Dan’s looking around too, but mostly at just how lux the decor is and mentally doing math about just how much of a hit his paycheck is going to take, having dinner here. He pushes that thought away. He’s got an emergency credit card for this exact reason. What’s more emergent than having a weirdly intimate dinner with your ex that perhaps you want to be close with again.

“They really splashed out on this,” Dan says, “Is this the kind of thing the company always does for you lot?”

Phil shrugs a shoulder, and says, somewhat sheepishly, “I don’t go to creator stuff much anymore.”

“You above that kind of thing?” Dan asks. He’s certain that the thought of Phil being snooty, or even distant wouldn’t cross other people’s minds. But he remembers all the parties they went to only to find a bottle of something strong and a corner to sit in and whisper to each other about how much the people around them sucked.

“It’s exhausting,” Phil admits. “When I started--when we started, people were getting famous, but we really did start in basements or our bedrooms, making dumb videos for years that people just happened to find.”

“Mm,” Dan nods, “It's not like that anymore?”

Phil shakes his head. “Not at all. Not for years.”

Their waitress comes before Dan can say anything else, introducing herself and offering their wine list for tonight.

Phil grabs the wine list and hardly reads before he names one for the waitress.

Dan curses internally, trying to remember just how much was on his card. He’s certain Phil will be fine with splitting, but a whole bottle is going to run them a pretty penny.

“Are you ok?” Dan asks, only partly to distract himself from counting pennies in his head. “I know it's been a long time, and it might not even be place to ask but...you seem tired.”

Phil gives a shrug and a smile. “It’s been a long year. I was planning to take a break, but then Rewind happened.”

Dan frowns, “The tour ended months ago, Phil.”

“It did,” Phil sighs, “But there’s the movie and then sponning for the movie. The commentary, narrating the book.”

“Do you sleep?” Dan asks seriously, reaching over to pat Phil’s hand. He can see Phil brace himself, but he doesn’t flinch away. If he were any of the guys Dan’s dated, that alone would be a deal breaker. But it's Phil and Dan feels weirdly proud, even as he’s pulling his hand away. Phil’s hand had been really soft and he might have wanted to linger, if Phil hadn’t looked like he wanted to check that there was no one watching them with a phone poised for a photo.

“...yes,” Phil says and Dan can hear the upward inflection of Phil caught in a lie.

Dan doesn’t look impressed. “I’ve seen every Sleepless Night with Phil.”

Phil ducks his head so Dan can’t see him blush. Dan doesn’t need to, he knows what Phil looks like when he blushes. He knows what Phil looks like when he’s happy, when he’s furious. He knows what Phil looks like when he’s first waking up and when he’s way overdue for a nap.

Maybe it's the confident of knowing that makes him say, “You’re adorable. An insomniac who probably needs a vacation and maybe medication, but adorable.”

Phil looks up at him and Dan meets his gaze, not looking away. It reminds him of the days before they lived together, when he’d say something daring to the screen Phil was on the other side of and just stare at Phil, daring him to ask Dan to take it further.

So Phil reacts. He can see the waitress approaching with the bottle of wine, so he says, “After we order and everything, you know I want to know your favorite.”

“Of your videos?” Dan asks, “Mm. That’s hard, let me think.”

“Couldn’t be that hard,” Phil says, and Dan recognizes that cheeky look, too, “You seem pretty familiar with my work.”

And Dan, because he always has to have the last word, smirks and says, “I’m familiar with lots of you, Lester.”

The waitress finally makes it to the table, expensive bottle of wine in hand, and Phil can’t say a single thing to that.

   
  
“Shut the fuck up,” Dan laughs, pressing his glass to his warm cheek. It feels like it's been hours since they got here. “You’re absolutely lying!”

“I’m _not_ ,” Phil groans, covering his face with both hands. “Fucking Nick Jonas! He wanted to hang out with me! And I was in Japan.”

“Poor thing,” Dan says and drains the last of his wine, “You could be the fourth Jonas brother right now. Brother in law. You missed your shot.”

“He would have snapped me like a twig,” Phil says very seriously. The inside of his mouth is stained deeply with wine and his eyes are shining with laughter and tipsiness. In the light of the restaurant, Dan can see the greys threading through the thick dark weft of his quiff. He’s well fit, always has been. But Dan’s suddenly allowed to think about it for the first time in years and Phil is right there, within arms reach. Dan knows that this is dangerous. He wants Phil, which is far from a new feeling, but Phil is right here, now, and he’s never been great at keeping what he wants under wraps.

He’s still thinking about it when the waitress brings the bill and Phil hands her his card with a thank you and not a single glance towards the actual number. And to think that Dan had been trying to add up the costs, two bottles of wine ago.

“It must be nice to be rich,” Dan says, because he’s drunk and because Phil used to be the person he could tell anything.

Phil shrugs a shoulder. “It is. It's usually worth it.”

“Usually?” Dan asks.

Phil looks at him, longer than is probably normal, but they’re full on wine and stellar food and Dan’s willing to allow a little drunken staring.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Phil says suddenly, leaning forward.

Dan looks around their mostly empty section of the restaurant and leans forward as well, whispering, “Is it that you’re absolutely flaming?”

Phil’s laugh is probably too loud for the quiet music and classy dim lighting of the restaurant, but the townspeople are probably used to it. Their town has been overrun with theatre kids without a proper outlet for a whole two days now.

“I don’t think that’s as secret as any of us would like,” Phil says, and his smile turns a little sad.

Dan sits back and says, “Can I abstain from responding to that?”

Phil huffs a laugh this time and says, “My secret. I missed you, Dan. I know we’re...I think we’re friends now? Or could be. But I missed you so much, and I don’t think I ever stopped missing you. I wouldn’t have given up Youtube, I don’t think i would have made a different choice. But I wish things would have ended between us differently.”

Dan sits back, “Oh.”

The waitress comes back and Phil takes the check again, signing and standing up.

“Come on,” Phil says, “Where are you staying? I’ll walk you there first.”

Dan shakes his head and gets up, too. “It’s just a little past yours.”  
 

They walk beside each other in the quiet, chilly night.

The wine makes Dan feel warmer than he actually is, and wobblier, and perhaps more confident, because he says, “I would have made the same choice, too.”

Phil looks over at him and then back to the road.

“And,” Dan says, “You made the right choice, I think. The right choice for you.”

“Thanks,” Phil says, and he’s not looking at Dan, but Dan can see that he’s smiling.

“And,” Dan says, taking a breath. “I’m trying to make the right decision here, Phil. Because I think you might still be the best friend I ever had. But I missed you, too.”

It’s late enough that there are only a few people on the street, and they’ve chosen to walk down one of the side avenues, so there’s nearly no one around. Dan hates that he’s thinking through the logistics of that when he stops, and Phil stops walking to look at him.

“Also, we’re drunk, or at least I am,” Dan babbles, “and consent is important.”

Phil takes a step closer, a keen look in his eyes.

“And I need you to tell me no,” Dan laughs, aware that he sounds a little mental, “tell me not to make a bad decision, or that this is going to ruin our nascent friendship. Phil, I need to tell you a secret.”

Phil takes another step, crowding in close to Dan, close enough that there’s no question about what he’s aiming for.

“It’s a new secret,” Dan breathes, “I didn’t-- I didn’t think I’d have it. I wasn’t expecting to leave here with new secrets.”

Phil presses a hand to Dan’s side and softly, carefully presses his mouth to Dan’s. Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s neck and makes an awful, embarrassing, almost hurt noise. Phil kisses him once, twice, and when comes back for another, Dan’s mouth is open and Phil’s tongue tastes of wine and the chocolate cake they’d ended dinner with. His hands are broad across Dan’s waist and he feels the same.

Dan hadn’t thought a lot about what it’d be like to be back with Phil, but he’d assumed that it would feel different, that there’d be some fundamental change between them that meant that whatever he’d felt before wasn’t what he’d feel now.

It turns out that he was full of shit, because Phil still kisses the same and it still makes Dan wobbly in the knees and it makes him want to press impossibly closer and it nearly makes him forget that they’re out in public until someone, a street over, shouts something and Dan jerks away.

“We can’t,” he says, looking at Phil, who looks remarkably calm. “Your channel. You don’t want people to know.”

“There’s a plan,” Phil tells him, his hands still resting on Dan’s waist. “I wasn’t going to tell you, because it doesn’t have anything to do with you, it’s all me. But there’s a plan, a slow rollout. They’ll all know anyway, in a few months. I filmed the coming out video ages ago. It’s cheesy, but I wanted to be sure that they knew.”

Dan suddenly feels the chill of the night winds. “You’re coming out.”

Phil shrugs. “I’m also saying shit on my channel and making more cock jokes. I can’t be the same person I was at 23. And my channel isn’t growing anymore, why not now?”

Dan had noticed that. He hadn’t realized it was part of a long term strategy, but he’d been abstractly proud.

“I live in Hampstead,” Dan breathes out. “With my cat, Yeezy. I’ve had two long term-ish boyfriends. I still watch Youtube, but not just you and I don’t ever want to that to be my career. It’s been six years since we broke up, which is definitely enough time to feasibly be over you. This isn’t necessarily falling into old patterns.”

Phil laughs quietly. “I live in London. No pets, but I really want a dog. I’ve had one long-term boyfriend, we broke up a year ago. It’s been six years since we broke up, but I don’t think I ever got over you. Missing you just became part of my day. And I’ve been writing. Stuff for myself, stuff for other people. Skits, scripts for videos. I’ve been taking screenplay writing classes, and getting caught up on new editing stuff. I don’t think I have many years left in front of the camera, but I might not want them.”

“Phil,” Dan says, “You were so scared. You were always so scared.”

“We were young,” Phil counters, rubbing Dan’s waist. His hands feel warm, even through Dan’s clothes and Dan can’t believe even this still feels so familiar. “We didn’t have any money other than Youtube.”

“Phil,” Dan says, frowning. “You weren’t worried about money. I knew-- I know you. You were _scared_.”

Phil just looks away and Dan can tell he’s pushing too far, so he pushes closer and presses a kiss to the edge of Phil’s jaw, just to hear him make a soft, surprised noise.

“I gotta go to sleep,” Dan says. “They scheduled my interview for ass o’clock in the morning. Probably because I didn’t give them anything good.”  
Phil nods, “And we’ve got filming tomorrow.”

“And we need to talk,” Dan says, “Sober.”

Phil nods very seriously, which is somewhat belied by the way he can’t stop smiling. Dan shakes his head.

“My therapist is going to have a field day,” he tells Phil and finally steps back.

“You should show them the hashtag,” Phil says, “That’ll probably make for a more interesting meeting.”

Dan rolls his eyes, “You should probably invest in one as well, Lester. I can’t imagine having to think about whether or not one of thousands of people is going to come up and talk to you just because you’re outside.”

Phil shrugs, “You get used to it.”

Dan looks at him, trying to take in the way he’s slightly swaying, the pinkness of his cheeks, the softness of his smile. Dan hadn’t known he’d wanted this back, but now that he does, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to deny himself again.

“Come on,” he says, “Back to the rooms.”


	6. Chapter 6

Phil wakes up early and can’t go back to sleep. He’s surprised he got to sleep at all, his mind whirring with what happened the night before.

He hadn’t been expecting this. He’d known Dan would be here and he’d been prepared for awkward conversations and, at best, empty promises to keep in touch.

He hadn’t even allowed himself to imagine having Dan in his arms again, Dan’s smile pressed against his skin and the promise of there being more, even after they both went home.

He wants to call his mum, he wants to tell his brother. He wants to tell the whole world that Dan still wants him. He wants the world to know that Dan wants him _now_ , not just the memory of who he used to be.

He’s got doubts, it all feels too good to be true, and all of their conversation last night has the fine fuzziness of a drunken good time. But he remembers Dan’s arms around him, and Dan’s mouth on his and he remembers the look on Dan’s face when he asked why Phil was so afraid.

He doesn’t quite know how to explain to Dan that he was afraid of losing his entire identity into this one piece of himself, into being part of the Dan and Phil package. He doesn’t know how to explain to Dan that all the things that happen now--people digging into his past, wanting to take parts of him every time they saw him in public--were some of his greatest fears then. Phil hasn’t known Dan in years, as excited as he is to learn. That means he can’t predict how Dan will react when Phil finally admits that all the things he thought they couldn’t survive are the daily facts of his life now.

Mostly anyway.

Phil’s sitting in bed now, wrapped in blankets, looking at the hashtag. There’d honestly been no one on the street last night, and there aren’t any incriminating photos that he’s seen so far. There really is a plan, that he’s talked through with his manager and some mentors. He’d considered talking to someone at Youtube about it, but he doesn’t want their attention on his videos any more than it already is.

He wasn’t lying to Dan. There’s a plan in place, and it's a good plan. Coming out is only part of it, but it's an important part of introducing his viewership to a realer version of himself.

Phil has to work hard not to imagine filming an addition to it with Dan by his side, confirming what some people have thought all along.

Dan said he wasn’t interested in coming back to Youtube. Just because it had been a mainstay of Phil’s entire adult life doesn’t mean that it had to be a part of Dan’s. Phil’s still coming to understand that Dan choosing his own life over Youtube doesn’t mean he’s also not choosing Phil.

_do you want to come to the interview?_

That’s the text Dan sent him a few minutes ago. There wasn’t any indication that Dan was interested in talking about last night, or what the future held. But he still wanted to see Phil and he wanted Phil there for the interview. That much meant a lot.

+  
_  
“What’s up with you and Dan?”_

_Phil looks over at the guy. Phil can’t remember his name, just that he’s a pretty big Youtuber, or about to be. Everyone here is either a big Youtuber or about to be, even though none of them quite understand what it means to be a big Youtuber yet._

_Phil doesn’t know what it means that they both got invited to this party, held at the small office Youtube had in London, with their travel, lodging and food all paid for by the company. He has an inkling though. Just like he has an inkling about why this guy is asking._

_“We’re friends?” Phil says, trying to soften the irritation in his voice._

_This guy’s the fifth person to ask about him and Dan since they got to the creator’s weekend. They all ask the same thing eventually, even the ones who pretend to ask about their content first._

_The guy makes a considering noise, “Doesn’t seem like it.”_

_He’s the first one to come out and say it at least. The rest of them dance around it, asking about Phil’s old girlfriends, or if Dan’s single. At least with them Phil can laugh it off._

_“Okay,” Phil says and he must not do a great job of hiding his feelings because the guy holds his hands up defensively._

_“It’s not a problem, mate,” the guy says and Phil decides he hates him. He has mates already, he doesn’t need this up and coming Youtuber with his big, easy smile and all his questions._

_“If you want to do...that, for your channel. It’s like they’ve been saying all week, there’s viewers for everything, innit.”_

_Phil looks around the crowded room for Dan, desperate to get out of this situation without being rude._

_“But people are going to want to know,” the guy is still talking for some reason, even though Phil’s actively ignoring him now. “People are gonna have questions.”_

_Phil stands up, throwing an absent thanks over his shoulder and walking away. It doesn’t matter. That guy won’t remember Phil and whatever shit he’s saying about people asking questions doesn’t matter._

_Dan_ is _Phil’s friend, they’d already decided that anything more than that was between them. Phil had suggested it, and Dan had agreed._

_People could have questions, they weren’t obligated to answer them.  
_

+

The interview is in the same place as yesterday, and they’re already talking when Phil gets into the room.

Dan’s skin is matte with powder and every microexpression is lit with plenty of lights, so Phil’s impressed when he doesn’t see Dan’s real reaction when the interviewer dives right in.

“So, Dan,” the interviewer says, “Why did you decide to leave Youtube?”

Phil knows that Dan can’t see anything past the bright lights in the darkened room, so he probably imagined Dan’s eyes flicking over to him.

Dan puts on a charming smile that’s clearly fake and Phil can’t help but wonder if he’d be any better at that if he’d stuck around in front of the camera for a few years.

“I really value my privacy,” Dan says, “And my ability to be all the parts of myself. Youtube, being successful on Youtube, means giving that up. It would have eventually meant exposing parts of myself that I, and people that I loved and care about, weren’t comfortable with.”

Phil almost laughs to himself. None of that will be usable. It’s Dan’s honest answer, but it's so far from the Youtuber model of presenting their stars as regular people, their audiences’ friend, that Phil already knows it's going to be left on the cutting room floor.

The interviewer must know it, too, because she takes a different angle, asking about Dan’s loved ones and if any of them know about his Youtube past.

“It must be strange for girlfriends,” she says breezily, “To know that there are still tons of teenage girls hanging on to your boytoys every word, six years later?”

“No,” Dan says breezily, “I’ve told a few partners and they all thought it was interesting. But just a curiosity.”

The interviewer waits for Dan to say something else and Dan looks at her, making it clear that he’s done answering.

She sighs and asks a few more questions, the same ones Phil got about the next ten years of Youtube Rewind and where people can find him.

“Nowhere,” Dan says, and there’s laughter in his eyes. “I’m not online.”

+  
 _  
“Phil!” Dan yells and Phil jerks awake._

_“Wha-what?” He sits up, scrabbling at the bedside table for his glasses and not finding them. “Are we being robbed?”_

_Dan laughs at him, “No, we’re not being robbed, you nunce. You hit 900,000.”_

_Phil squinted at the laptop, it was well past 2 in the morning._

_“Why are you awake?” he whines and flops back onto their bed._

_“Couldn’t sleep,” Dan says, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re going to hit a million followers soon!”_

_“Mm,” Phil says and reaches out to pull Dan down with him, moving him around til they’re properly cuddled. “That’s nice. Go to sleep.”_

_Dan acqueises, but Phil can just about hear him thinking. It’s fine. He’s slept through Dan sleeping a thousand times and he’ll sleep through it a thousand more, as long as Dan stays in his bed, warm and sleepy and thinking loudly._

_“A million subscribers,” Dan says, “That’s so many people.”_

_“It’s a million,” Phil agrees, “Go to sleep. Love you.”_

_“I love you,” Dan says, and Phil can hear his smile. “Mr. Big Shot Youtuber. Promise you’ll remember me and the other little people when you’re famous.”  
_

+

“Hey,” Dan says, finally getting away from the interviewer who’s thanking him for his candid words.

“Hi,” Phil says.  
“I’ve got to wash this off,” Dan says, gesturing at his face. “After that, brunch? We can go over lines. Maybe talk about last night. Fair warning, I might need to Facetime Yeezy. My friend, Wes, is watching her, but she gets needy.”

Phil nods, “You named your cat Yeezy? You named your cat after Kanye West?”

“It’s a long story,” Dan says, “I’ll tell you after you meet her. She’s got one eyes, it's adorable. Meet me out front in ten?”

Phil’s spent years without Dan, watching over his shoulder and making sure that he’s performing the character of Amazing Phil whenever anyone might see him.

He’s given up friendships and life experiences and loves because it's been easier than fighting, and easier than hiding. But he can recognize an impossibility suddenly becoming possible and he knows better than to question a chance that comes knocking twice.

So it’s small, but liberating, thing when he smiles at Dan, doesn’t have a clue who might be listening and says, “Yeah, sure. It’s a date.”


End file.
